When the devil wants to walk
It's my skin he crawls in
When the devil wants to talk
It's my mouth teeth chin
When the devil wants to fight
It's my arms jaw fists
When the devil wants a sight
It's my clever razor wit
When the devil wants it all
It's my ambition that tries
When the devil wants you, doll
It's my hands, lips, and eyes

I will always be trying to become my hero, but better
I will always get stuck being a little bit less, though
I will always be trying to become your hero, but real
I will always get stuck being a little bit less, though
I will always be trying to become everyone's hero, but honest
I will always get stuck being a little bit less, though
I will always be trying to become my mother's hero, but reliable
I will always get stuck being a little bit less, though
I will always be trying to be my brother's hero, but clean
I will always get stuck being a little bit less, though
I will always be trying to be my buddies' hero, but caring
I will always get stuck being a little bit less, though
I will always be trying to be my heroes' hero, but recent
I will always get stuck being a little bit less, though
I will always be trying to be my father's hero, but smarter
I will always get stuck being a little bit less, though
I will always be trying to be my dead grandfather's hero, but young
I will always get stuck being a little bit less, though
I will always be trying to be my country's hero, but benevolent
I will always get stuck being a little bit less, though
I will always be trying to be my friends' hero, but strong
I will always get stuck being a little bit less, though
I will always be trying to be my church's hero, but open-minded
I will always get stuck being a little bit less, though
I will always be trying to be my love's hero, but brave
II will always get stuck being a little bit less, though
I will always be trying to be the cynic's hero, but charming
*I will always get stuck being a little bit less, though

I'm not happy all the time, but I am content.
I'm not sad all the time, but I am gloomy.
I'm not angry all the time, but I am frustrated.
I'm not surprised all the time, but I am disoriented.
I'm not infatuated all the time, but I am smitten.
I'm not groggy all the time, but I am tired.
I'm not weak all the time, but I am deficient.
I'm not strong all the time, but I am mighty.
I'm not brilliant all the time, but I am clever.
I'm not insane all the time, but I am unbalanced.
I'm not pious all the time, but I am devoted.
I'm not ambitious all the time, but I am driven.
I'm not lazy all the time, but I am relaxed.
I'm not stressed all the time, but I am tense.
I'm not making sense all the time, but I am trying to explain myself
I'm not a great listener all the time, but I am trying to understand
I'm not, but I am

The veil draws ever clearer,
easier to see through,
but still like a mirror
I can see through and also see myself
I wonder if it reflects or just shows the truth

The veil draws ever thicker,
harder to get past,
but still like water
I can not go through
and I can only skim the surface
I wonder if it is a wall or only a window

The veil draws ever larger,
spanning a greater pass,
but still within reach
I can not go around it but I can touch it
I wonder if it guards forever or just until I leave it

The distance between myself and the world could hardly be thicker
I cannot contemplate coordinating careful countermeasures consciously
I could cleverly, cunningly, calculate and collaborate clear contingencies
But my mind makes my misery mighty methodically, minute by minute
And it renders rapid renunciation of ridiculous rhythm and rhyme rather reticent
What remains are repugnant renditions wrapping where real attempt once sat

The veil is upon me
closer than my senses,
I cannot get outside it,
but I can speak through it
I wonder if its helping or hurting

I eat nightmares and childhood fears, drink sorrow and sweet tears
a creature ****** and blessed in one, singing a song not yet sung.

Be afraid of me, because I am not afraid of you.

Must a rest be peaceful to be restful? Must a prison be walled to be a prison?
How many people rest without peace; how many prisoners lie still but free?

A Dream can be a prison, when the dream cannot be escaped.
A Dream haunts you when you sleep and when you've waked
A prison without walls, a prison in my mind
A prison I hate the most because images shine
A Dream is a place of beauty, honesty, and hope
A Dream is a place with which I can never cope
A prison created only when the imprison-er has faded
A prison of haunting ideas and fantasies aided
A Dream is a taunting, teasing, tortuous thing
A Dream cannot be, but it's possibilities sing
A prison of wishes and wants to be desired
A prison of worries and false prophets, liars
A Dream is only as hurtful as it is full of bliss
A Dream's greatest weapon; a non-existent kiss

I keep hearing screams but I'm not screaming
I keep smelling blood but I'm not bleeding
WHOSE screams are screech-screaming?
WHOSE blood is stream-bleeding?
Is there a madness to this sanity?
Is there a gate to my Vanity?
Can I open this door to discover,
Who might be behind this cover?  

I keep hearing your screams.  Why screaming?
I can taste your blood.  Are you still bleeding?
If there is an answer, let it be quiet.
I don't want to hear it; I'll riot.
So many people can smell your blood
Why don't they run and staunch the flood?
All the screams are echoing loud
No one ever walks within the shroud

It never stops, not ever; screaming
And you must be dry, dry from bleeding
How many days lie still in waiting?
How many men die while hating?
I know it can't be true
You must be dead; it's true

You've screamed and screamed, yet your screaming
You've bled oceans and rivers; still bleeding
Visage cold and still; it's quiet
Play at life but I don't buy it
I've heard your call for days and ages
You've bled enough to fill my pages

How can it be that you haunt me still?
You screams and blood no longer thrill
My standard of living comes from your dying
Men laugh, smile and nod while lying

Ten leagues lie between my heart and soul
That space is filled with a screaming hole
That hole is filled from bottom to top
Blood pours over and doesn't stop
In that pit I find you still
You live so long as I will

Screaming stops when bleeding ceases
Scars and wounds and paper creases
You're screaming because I can't find you
You're bleeding because I can't help too

Whose screams are still yet screaming?
Whose blood is it that's always bleeding?
I know you're in there, in the dark
Just say something, call out, “hark!”
But never will your screaming halt
I know this bleeding is my fault
Left alone in a cold sad place
I don't even know your face